Hold On To Me (Cause I'm A Little Unsteady)
by Silverspoon
Summary: Imagine what he could have been, what they could have had, if only a saint and not a sinner had been his saviour. (Skyeward) Collab with WelshWitch1011


**_'_** ** _ _ **Hold On To Me 'Cause I'm A Little Unsteady'**__**

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _'_** ** _ _ **I'm alone, 'cause this house don't feel like home…'**__**

 ** **12**** ** **th**** ** **September 2001****

The first day at school was always a nerve racking experience for all involved, but Grant Ward was eighteen years old, over six feet tall, and a wall of pure muscle; he couldn't help but think that the time to be quaking in his sneakers and hiding in his father's shadow was long past. And yet there he was, standing in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Operations Academy almost visibly trembling and with eyes so wide that they were in real danger of falling out of his head. If truth be told, he was finding it rather difficult to breathe, what with the million questions and concerns that raced through his seldom quiet mind.

A cold nose nuzzled the palm of his right hand, either seeking to provide comfort or else hoping to discover hidden treats. Grant shot a smile down at the Labrador, rubbing Buddy's silken ear with his thumb. The dog harrumphed once, apparently disappointed by the lack of biscuits in his young master's hand, but seeming to sense Grant's unease he consented to lean into his leg. The dog provided a solid and steady presence, which immediately grounded Ward in the way in which very few things could. Buddy had been there for him since the beginning, when human counterparts had already failed Grant; it had been an oversized brown pup that had jumped onto Ward's bed in the middle of the night to chase away the nightmares, and a warm, wet tongue that had licked away any errant tears that had tripped his cheeks.

"Good boy," Grant murmured somewhat absently as he found his gaze pulled back to the tower of grey brick and artistically twisted metal before him.

A distinct unease gnawed at the pit of his stomach, and Grant watched the other teens interact with their parents as they said their goodbyes. The crowd was a sea of sobbing mothers, proud fathers, and beaming siblings, all of whom had come to wish the new recruits well on their first day as S.H.I.E.L.D. students.

Turning to the man standing beside him, Ward frowned, unable to shake the feelings of inadequacy that had plagued him since early childhood. If he had never measured up to Christian in his parents' eyes, how could he even hope to be accepted by his frighteningly smart and uptight classmates?

"What if I don't fit in?" he lamented, his hand gripping the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Son, you're one of the smartest kids in the God-damn state. You're fast, you think on your feet, and you're a helluva good shot…" Affixing a warm yet slightly arrogant smile on his face, Garrett added, "Taught you all I know, didn't I?!"

Digging his hands in his pockets, John shrugged, "But, if at the end of the month you don't feel like it's a good fit… the mutt and I will come and pick you up, no questions asked, no balls busted."

Ward appeared to think this over for a moment, his brow creased in obvious concern as he chanced a glance at his guardian and mentor. "But you want me to join S.H.I.E.L.D… to be like you."

Garrett laughed - a hearty gesture that made his eyes crease in mirth.

"Jesus, Grant… I don't want you to be like me. I know you can be __better__ than me. Probably not as handsome, but… a better S.H.I.E.L.D. agent than I've ever been. And you know why?"

Shaking his head, Ward rubbed Buddy's head and took a moment to exhale out a breath he had been holding.

"Cos you got a good heart. And that's why this place…" John nodded up towards the vast building, "that's why this place is gonna be the making of you."

Grant fell silent, turning away from his mentor - the only true guardian he had ever had - in order to survey the crowds assembled in front of the building. Some of his potential classmates already looked like agents, in their Aviators and dark suits, hair slicked back and hands folded neatly in front of them as though they were Kevin Costner auditioning for 'The Bodyguard'.

"I just don't want to let you down," Ward said quietly, and Buddy suddenly yapped as though he disapproved of such negativity. Although it was more likely due to the squirrel he had spotted barrelling across the parking lot.

Garrett actually guffawed, clapping Ward on the back as though he had just told the funniest joke imaginable.

"That could never happen, kid," he managed, subduing his raucous laughter to a more appropriate chuckle, "you'll understand that, one day."

Garrett placed his hand on the teenager's shoulder in a paternal gesture, and the young Grant managed a brief but unconvincing smile.

"You've worked through a lot, son. You pulled it together, you graduated high school on the honour roll, and you've got that rage your parents battered into you under control… stop feeling like you ain't worth shit. You're gonna be a good man, Grant Ward. I know it… and I'm always right. It's a cross I gotta bear." He smirked, showing a row of perfectly white teeth.

Ward nodded, thinking back on the day some three years earlier when the senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had plucked him from the living Hell of a detention centre, and his life had been forever changed. John Garrett wasn't a soft or cuddly man by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd acted as Grant's guardian and mentor, even protector, with firmness but also innate kindness. And that had been the key to allowing the terrified, angry child to thrive under his direction.

"So… you ready to do this, Grant? It's up to you. If you want to go home, think over your options some more, you can. Or… you can take a chance and change the rest of your life."

Grant turned around, allowing himself to meet the older man's gaze, which managed to be both unwavering and yet also gentle - not a hint of judgement present. He knew that in just eighteen short years, the boy had already had a bellyful of that.

Sucking in a breath, Ward finally bobbed his head, albeit shakily and with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Chesire-cat like grin back in place, Garrett crooned, "Atta boy!"

 ** **x-x-x****

 **'** ** **I know you're trying to fight when you feel like flying…'****

 ** **17**** ** **th**** ** **July 2004****

Garrett had been right when he said S.H.I.E.L.D. would be the making of Grant Ward, and now, three years later, the young man was graduating top of his class - infamous for his abilities in combat, and second only to a certain red-headed Russian when it came to espionage. He'd mastered languages, weapons and explosives training, tactics, and leadership skills, and he'd taken it all in his stride.

Now, poised to take up a post as Garrett's new rookie Specialist, Ward had turned his life around and found a cause to believe in.

Looking out across the sea of faces assembled for the graduation ceremony, he spotted Garrett in the second row, sunglasses in place along with a beaming smile that betrayed his immense pride in his charge. It had been a long and difficult path for Ward, but he'd survived - due in no small part to the man cheering him on from the middle of a row of fold-out chairs.

Ward paused in his place in the long line of students that were weaving their way towards the stage, taking just a moment to contemplate how very different things could have turned out had Garrett not been the one to find him all those years ago. Even if he had been fortunate enough to escape prosecution at trial for burning down his parents' home with his older brother still inside, he knew that there was no way the path he had been heading down would have led to a graduation ceremony at a prestigious facility. There had been far too much darkness, pain, and rage gnawing away at every corner of him for that to have been the case. Garrett had seemed not to mind the fact that the boy he had taken in had been all rough edges and sharp elbows, always ready to fight him on every little detail, even down to what toilet tissue to stock the bathroom with. More times than enough he had simply laughed in Grant's face at his rebellious and surly attitude, where Mr. Ward would have instead most certainly seized the opportunity to physically impart his own brand of wisdom.

For quite a few months, Grant and Garrett had seemed to just tolerate each other, before a shaky alliance was eventually formed. Ward had been desperately attempting to hold off on getting too comfortable in his new home - too attached. His parents had been quick to point out to him throughout his childhood that caring was a weakness, both through their words and their deeds, and Ward had carried the belief with him well into adulthood. Garrett had been the one to finally challenge that, with his kind and simultaneously mischievous smile, and soft Southern twang that lit up his eyes whenever he spoke.

Grant's name was called, and he received his badge with a sense of immense pride in his own achievements that was foreign to him. But, in that moment, he allowed himself to acknowledge his successes and just how far he'd come.

Though Ward had no idea what his career with S.H.I.E.L.D. would lead to, he knew this was the better path than the one he'd been set on by his parents. Gone was the longing and desire for their approval, for his father's pride and his mother's love. Those things he knew would never be his, and he'd wasted enough of his younger years yearning for something he could never hope to have.

But now the future stretched before him, and it was up to him to chase the dreams that hung within his grasp. As John Garrett stood up and applauded along with all of the other smiling, overjoyed parents, Ward realised he had the only father figure he'd ever need.

Family wasn't always about blood, and for the first time in his life, Grant Ward, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., felt like he truly belonged.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _'_** ** _ _ **I know that you're tired of being alone…'**__**

 ** **7**** ** **th**** ** **February 2014****

Buddy was getting old. He was more tired these days, taking to sleeping on the couch that he still wasn't allowed on (but which John never had the heart to shove him off) rather than chewing up shoes or chasing the tennis balls that were thrown for him at the park. Garrett liked to think the mutt had a few good years left in him but he knew he couldn't kid himself forever; inevitably, he would have to face the facts of the declining health of one of his oldest and truest friends. Things had certainly changed with their little set up since it had first begun - John, a smart mouthed kid with a penchant for picking fights he'd never win, and a Labrador with more energy than a toddler on a caffeine bender. These days it was mostly just John and an elderly Buddy, even more so since Grant had been selected for a starring role in Phil Coulson's newest team of misfits; after all, these days Grant had a tendency to emerge victorious from every fight he picked.

Lost in thought, John continued to massage the old dog's ears as he lay with his chin propped in his master's lap, quietly dozing. The moment that Garrett first became aware of the presence of someone outside the front door was at least several seconds before Buddy half heartedly raised his head and let out a low grumble that resembled a bark. With a smile, Garrett patted the dog's head and murmured a command to stay before he approached the front door. He could hear the tell tale sounds of the lock being picked and, given that it was close to midnight, he thought it safe to assume that he was in the process of being robbed. He smirked to himself, cracking his knuckles before he reached for his side-arm. It had been an age since he'd had a decent fight.

John stood in the darkness, waiting with almost anticipation for the intruder to push open the heavy oak door. However, as he wasted no time in lifting his gun to point at the mystery figure, they too rapidly drew a handgun to his own head, and the two men stood in a silent stand-off until realisation (and sense) dawned together.

"God damn it, son! That's what they invented keys for!" Garrett griped, lowering his weapon as Ward followed suit, and the two Specialists found themselves standing before each other.

Ward closed the door behind him, pausing to gesture to the security light that had failed to come on.

"The light was out, and there was a broken planter on the path… I thought…" he explained in a tone tinged with concern, pausing as Garrett began to laugh.

"Hey, I'm old but I'm not infirm. The mutt knocked it over on our walk before, he's… he's a little less spry these days."

Grant shot a look over towards the couch, where Buddy lay with his head on his paws, his tail thumping at the familiar sight and smell of his younger master. A smile curved Grant's lips upwards and he reached into the pocket of his pants, where he had concealed a dog biscuit in readiness to greet the Lab. He threw the bone shaped treat onto the couch and Buddy swallowed it in two gulps, his huge eyes shining in the dim light.

"What the Hell are you doing here anyway?" Garrett asked, cocking his head at Ward as he replaced his gun in the holster and Grant did likewise with his own weapon. "I thought you were off with the rest of the mile high club."

"Can you please not call us that?" Grant ground out through gritted teeth, shaking his head at John's hearty chuckle. "I will pay you to never conjure those mental images again."

"Alright, alright," John relented, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. He inclined his head at the kitchen, setting out towards it with a purposeful stride and Grant in his wake.

"Cocoa?" he offered, already pulling mugs out of the cupboard.

Ward nodded, his smile easy as he declared, "You know how I like it."

"Mini marshmallows, and a slug of Bourbon," Garret replied, rattling off the ingredients to what had become his and Ward's signature drink for late night tête-à-têtes.

Waiting until Grant was seated at the kitchen table, Garrett busied himself with preparing their drinks as he threw over his shoulder - behind a concealed grin - "So, how's it going with that little Hellcat of a hacker you picked up last month?"

Ward visibly gritted his teeth.

"I didn't pick her up, I…we… sort of _abducted_ her, but that's not the point…" he winced, leaning back and folding his arms over his muscular chest, "she's rude, lazy, totally disrespectful of authority, purposefully contrary, stupid, vapid, unreasonable, irrational, highly strung, with… a _questionable_ sense of humour."

Garrett puffed his cheeks out and exhaled slowly. "So you're crazy about her, huh?"

Narrowing his eyes, Ward shook his head. The disbelief was evident in his voice as he grumbled, "I'm her S.O."

Predictably, Garrett guffawed at the news, and Ward sighed as he watched him add more than a generous slug of bourbon to the mugs.

"If she __is__ all the things you say she is, then… you really think she's cut out to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?" Garrett pressed, seemingly aware of Grant's feelings before the younger man had so much as processed them. Or admitted to them, for that matter.

Ward ran his hands through his hair, grateful of the distraction Buddy provided as he padded into the kitchen and rested a slobbery, furry chin on Ward's lap. He stroked the dog's head, gaze averted as he admitted, "She's not. At least, she's not stupid. She's pretty smart, actually. Resourceful. Caring, I guess… Annoyingly good at board games…"

"She cute?" Garrett raised both eyebrows at once, placing the mugs onto the table and turning around a chair before sitting astride it as he prepared to fully interrogate his own clearly love-struck rookie.

"No. I… No. She's… No. I mean… What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded, trying to somewhat skittishly reason himself out of a corner.

"So what if she's beautiful, I…" freezing suddenly, Grant picked up his mug, "… don't feel comfortable discussing this any further."

Garret's grin said it all, and Grant scowled in response from behind the rim of his mug. Steam billowed off the cocoa, scolding his upper lip to the point of pain and yet Ward stubbornly refused to set down the cup, knowing he would only have to start talking again. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked loudly, marking the passage of the seconds and eventually minutes where silence dominated. Finally, John decided he couldn't take it any more, and that he was just a little too weary to continue waiting Ward out this time.

"Come on, son. What gives?" Garret demanded, smile suddenly fading and his features evening out again until he wore his usual mask of indifference. "You come busting in here in the middle of the night when you're supposed to be in Vegas with the rest of your team, your panties all bunched up, looking like you slugged a quart of vinegar. Now you got two choices here; either you tell me what happened and we see if we can't fix it, or you take your sour ass two blocks over to the bar so some other knucklehead can watch you pout for hours like a Miss America contestant."

Grant frowned immediately, determined not to find even a shred of humour in Garrett's words, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to - that over the last twenty four hours he had almost forgotten what it was to laugh. Shaking his head faintly at his own flare for the dramatic, Ward met John's expectant gaze before setting down his mug.

"Fine," he conceded, sounding as though it was anything but.

"It speaks!" Garrett crooned, unable to resist poking the proverbial bear further as he added, "hey, you didn't try to put the moves on the Cavalry, did you?"

Pointedly ignoring John's teasing, Ward propped his elbows on the table and dropped his chin into his hands as he stated, "I may have messed up…"

Garrett swallowed down a gulp of now room temperature cocoa, wincing in pleasure at the mild burn in his throat courtesy of the bourbon.

"Alright. What'd you do? Change the WiFi password?!"

Ward pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, visibly ashamed of himself as he seemed to be addressing the table top.

"She hacked my personnel file. I… I don't know, I… I told her she'd broken my trust, and gave her an essay to write about her behaviour and… how the team wouldn't be able to trust her and…" he sighed heavily, finally lifting his gaze and wincing as he folded his arms across his broad chest. "She burst into tears. It was… horrible."

Garrett's face showed his utter revulsion for such emotional outbursts and he swallowed down another glug of cocoa as the younger man continued on with his explanation.

"Skye's an orphan. She grew up in the system, got passed between foster homes until she ran away when she was fifteen."

"Tough break," Garrett allowed, his face this time exhibiting his sympathy for the young woman.

Ward cocked his head and nodded, "Yeah. And apparently, each time a family sent her back, the nuns would make her write down some kind of weird reflection on what went wrong… and ideas for how she could fix her behaviour so that…" he lowered his voice, almost too loathed to finish the sentence, "so that the next family might want to keep her."

Garrett sat up a little straighter, surprised to find himself bristling at the cruelty that had occurred far too long ago for him to do anything about now.

"I'm guessing she didn't volunteer this information to you?" John queried, shrugging his shoulders as he reached for the Bourbon and poured another generous measure into his cup. He offered the bottle up to Ward, who barely nodded his head.

"No, she told Simmons, Simmons told Fitz, and Fitz yelled at me over the breakfast table," Ward admitted, rubbing his unshaven jaw and letting loose a sigh that more than conveyed the guilt nibbling away at him. "They're all giving me the silent treatment now, except for May."

Garrett snorted into his hand, shoulders shaking as he was overtaken by the racous laughter bubbling up from his chest.

"Sorry, kid," he said, wiping tears away from the corner of his eyes, "is Coulson running a top secret team of specialists or first grade?"

Ignoring his mentor's amusement, too wrapped up in his guilt, Ward found he was struggling with another feeling he wasn't sure he'd experienced before that also seemed to be eating away at him.

"I hurt her… _And I didn't mean to do that_."

Garrett nodded, placing his cup down with a thud as Buddy wagged his tail at him hopefully and raised both ears up to discern whether this meant his master might be making a trip to the treat jar. Spotting the dog's hopeful gaze, John stood up and retrieved a couple of biscuits from the container, handing them to Ward who passed them one by one to a slobbering, delighted canine.

"Well, buy her flowers. Say you're sorry. Girls like that kind of thing."

Ward shook his head at the idea, "I'm her S.O., not her boyfriend."

Garrett sat back in his chair and smirked, raising both arms behind his head. "Well, sounds like right now, you suck at the former 'cause your heart's set on the latter."

Ward openly scowled at John, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at the older man as though he was affronted by the suggestion.

"Quit looking at me like that, Ward," barked Garrett, "you think after fifteen years of wiping your nose and starching your boxer briefs I don't know you?"

Ward's frown only deepened momentarily, before abruptly fading away into a look of such pure distress that John immediately softened.

"Sometimes better than I know myself," Grant admitted, his words sounding almost like a lament. He took a moment to down the rest of his cocoa, ignoring the burn of the liquor.

"So wha'ret you going to do about it?" demanded John, arching a brow and reaching for the bottle, before proceeding to refill Ward's mug a quarter of the way with pure alcohol. "Aside from get hopelessly drunk with me."

Ward shrugged miserably, swallowing down almost all the liquid in his cup as John watched, eyebrow arched in surprise. Ward liked a drink, but he was always careful concerning alcohol, and he rarely over-indulged. He hated to lose control, to not be aware of himself or his surroundings, so the fact he'd just downed a double shot of bourbon in two gulps alluded to just how upset he actually was.

"I don't know. I don't think 'I'm sorry' cuts it," he reflected, racking his brain to try to think of another way to convey his sincere regret.

Garrett rubbed his jaw and leaned back in his seat, arms folded across his abdomen. "Why do you think she hacked your file?"

Grant appeared to ponder it briefly and then shook his head. "I don't know. To find out about my past, my service history…"

John laughed softly, arching an eyebrow as he downed the last dregs from his mug.

"She wanted to know you better, you fucking idiot. You're not exactly a caring and sharing kind of guy. Maybe she just wanted to find out more about you." He added pointedly, "Maybe __she__ likes __you__?!"

The confusion and abject shock that coloured Grant's features made Garrett laugh out loud, but gradually the young man came around to the suggestion that Skye's actions had not been out of malice or defiance, rather a way to know her somewhat cold and aloof S.O. a little better.

The pair shared another few shots of bourbon, and later on home-made burgers, prompting a sudden bout of exuberance from the Labrador who sat adoringly between his masters.

But all in all, the evening was passed in easy conversation, with a dose of teasing and blunt but well meaning guidance from a man who just wanted to see his former charge happy.

Ward returned to base the next day and apologised. Of course Skye was upset and angry, and her usually good-natured goading was laced with a somewhat more caustic edge than usual, but that was to be expected.

After a week, relations had returned to normal. After two, an unlikely understanding had started to blossom between them.

The third week, she kissed him and the rest, as they say, was history.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _'_** ** _ _ **Momma, Come here. Approach, appear…'**__**

 ** **5**** ** **th**** ** **December 2015****

"Move over, robot," Skye demanded, already sliding into the space on the bench next to Ward and simultaneously reaching across him in order to steal a piece of toast off his plate. She grinned before bringing it to her lips and taking a hearty bite, which Grant observed with a smile.

"Good morning," he returned brightly, leaning across the small space that divided them in order to brush a kiss against her lips. As he withdrew, he peered at her from beneath a fan of lashes, his voice husky as he added, " _Again_."

"Son, some of us are trying to eat," Garrett ground out from his position on the adjacent bench, where he was pushing scrambled egg around his plate and glaring at the couple as Skye crawled practically into Grant's lap.

"Hey Garrett," Skye said by way of greeting, her smile wide and affectionate. Despite himself, John returned the hacker's grin, unable to maintain a hard façade in front of the woman, whose enthusiasm for life was generally infectious, whether one wanted it to be or not.

Swallowing down a sip of lukewarm coffee, Garett flashed her another smile.

"Hey there, darlin'." Eyeing the pair carefully, he speared a piece of bacon with his fork. "So, I can see you're taking good care of our boy, here. I hope he's taking care of you and not being a total pain in the ass."

Skye snatched a piece of bacon from Ward's plate and bit into it decisively, a wide smile settling onto her face as she chewed and swallowed.

"I guess he's okay," she allowed playfully, shooting a sideways glance at Grant that indicated very clearly that she thought he was a million miles past the point of being 'okay'. "I figure I might keep him around."

She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed her temple, but something in the brief flicker of panic that crossed his features stoked Garrett's interest, and he resolved to file that away for interrogation at a later date.

The couple seemed happy enough - nauseatingly happy, as far as John was concerned - and whenever they were in the same room as each other, it was as if they gravitated together, pulled by some unseen force to always be touching. Whether it be a snatched kiss or a hand brushing an arm, Garrett had noticed just how demonstrative the pair were; which was somewhat unlike the distant, emotionally detached Grant Ward he knew. Emotion and physicality made Ward uncomfortable as a general rule, and the few girlfriends he'd had in the past had soon tired of his somewhat absent attentions.

But with Skye, it was different. He gazed at her in open adoration, and there was a gentle, caring side rapidly emerging within Ward that was taking all who knew him by surprise. Grant was many things - dedicated, loyal, moral, perhaps more than a little uptight - but one thing he wasn't known for was tenderness.

"I guess I better get going," Skye moaned, snatching a kiss from Ward before she clambered off his knee, looking reluctant and immediately forlorn at the prospect. "I have training with May in ten."

"You mean you're getting your ass handed to you in ten?" Garret asked with a chuckle, shaking his head as Skye nodded, her bottom lip sticking out in a noticeable pout. "Kid, I've told you time and time again, I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. Your place is in Communications. You're too pretty to be some goon's punching bag."

Skye snorted, arching a brow as she shot back, "May's pretty."

Garrett's scowl was instant as he replied, "I don't think Agent May is fully human so I'm not willing to go there."

"Women can do the job just fine, John," Skye stated firmly, irritation prickling her all over as she crossed her arms, determined to stand her ground.

"That they can," Garrett agreed, the smile he wore appeasing but also somewhat paternally concerned, "Romanoff, Maximoff, Hill, Morse... Hell, the whole damn thing was founded by Peggy Carter… I could shoot names off all day, sweetheart. It's just some are cut from the Specialist cloth and some… aren't…"

Garrett sighed, letting his fork rest against his plate as he looked up at her with nothing but honesty in his eyes. No matter how unpalatable Skye might find the truth, Garrett knew that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s propensity to turn their people into mindless, faceless soldiers wasn't something that should be allowed to befall the young woman. It would be a tragedy for her to lose her love of life, her vivacity and spirit, and from his experience, S.H.I.E.L.D. hammered that individuality out of people.

"You're not like him…" he gestured to Ward, "you're not like me. And you're sure as Hell not like the God-damn Cavalry. I don't want you to ever have to make the calls we've all had to make. Who lives… who dies. How they die. How much they're gonna suffer before they finally kick the bucket… Telling yourself that, shit, a little collateral damage is okay. What's one innocent life? Or ten? It's all for the greater good, right? Can you do that, Skye? Is that who you want to become?"

Skye bristled, his words leaving her expression stricken with something between fear and revulsion. The truth behind them stung, yet she found herself uncharacteristically at a loss for a coherent reply or snarky retort. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting to Ward as he let out a sigh.

"That's enough, John," he snapped, reaching up and taking Skye's hand. He tugged on it to gather her attention. He kissed her palm and tangled her fingers through his. "I'll see you later, baby."

She nodded slowly, a sullen and yet thoughtful expression lingering on her face as she regarded the older man. "See you around, John."

John only gently smiled his goodbye, waiting until Skye had disappeared from view altogether before he turned to look at Ward, whose own expression was one of irritation.

"I wish you wouldn't put doubts in her mind like that," Grant all but snarled, pushing aside his plate and thus the remainder of his breakfast now that John had managed to sour his mood enough to dent his appetite.

John held up both hands, a gesture of surrender that seemed a little bit too forced; after all, he knew he was right in this instance.

"All I'm saying, Ward, is that Skye is not now nor will she ever be Specialist material," he said, matter of fact, as though he was observing how it had begun to rain through the window. In a softer tone, however, he added, "That girl is going to get herself killed running around trying to fill other people's boots like that."

Ward's expression was now bordering on infuriated, but Garrett simply shrugged as he tried to defend his opinion; one he was almost certain was entirely accurate. "What is it you love about her?"

"What?" Grant narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as if he didn't have any idea where John was going with his line of questioning. "What does that have to do with it?"

John hid an exasperated smile behind the back of his hand and he paused to take a sip of his drink before leaning back in his seat. Folding his arms across his chest, he regarded Grant with an air of superiority that instantly made the younger agent take unwilling notice of his mentor.

"I know why you fell for her, even if you don't…" John challenged, "and it's not just the Bambi eyes and killer rack."

"Of course I know why," Grant tutted, his lips set into a tight line before he confessed, "Skye is… spirited, and… kind… funny... smart. She's good, and principled, and… beautiful."

"Alright, that's enough," Garrett laughed good-naturedly, "let me at least try and keep my breakfast down, Romeo. My point is, Grant… you really think she could live with herself if she killed someone? You think she's capable of making the calls we do? That's not who she is. And that's okay. That's why you love her. She's the light, and you're the dark… a perfect pair."

This time his words seemed to have had an impact and Ward nodded, toying with the handle of his own mug as Garrett drained his and set it down with a heavy hand.

"So, what was with the look of ball crushing terror when Little Miss Peppy talked about keeping you around? You gettin' itchy feet, son? Cos I gotta tell you, you're already punching above your weight with that one."

Ward's eyes were on his in a moment, but Garrett was taken aback somewhat as Ward puffed out a huff of laughter. Running a hand through his thick, black hair, the young man nodded in agreement.

"That I am."

Garrett watched him with growing impatience, awaiting an explanation that Ward seemed reluctant to give. The seconds ticked by before finally Grant licked his lips and offered Garrett a tentative smile.

"I want to marry her. I mean… I want to ask her… to marry me."

Garrett puffed out his cheeks, almost choking on his own saliva; he had most definitely not been expecting such a response.

" _Fuck me_ ," he drawled, shaking his head at his former charge. "You don't do things by halves, do you son?!"

Ward's smile immediately failed, his features drawing into an expression that reflected his fear. The possibility of impending rejection was written all over his face, and Garrett almost felt sorry enough for the poor boy to cease his mocking. Almost. He did manage to calm his laughter down, however, at least to a degree that Grant would find more tolerable.

"What's holding you back then, son?" Garrett pressed, hooking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the corridor that lead towards the training rooms, where Skye would now be facing down Melinda May in a fight she could never hope to win.

"I just…" Ward paused, his grimace making it look as though he was trying to choke down something sour, "how long have you got?"

"Only about a half hour until I have to be back on a jet to the Triskelion, so make it snappy," Garrett commanded, "besides, you know Buddy hates the dog sitter."

Grant nodded, a smile prompted by the mention of the mutt he had spent a good deal of his young life adoring. Quickly though, his thoughts turned back to Skye, and the radiant smile that had won him over.

"There's the usual, I guess," Ward began, somewhat hesitantly, with his eyes deliberately downcast to the surface of his abandoned plate, "what if she says no? What if she says yes but then realises she made a mistake? What if it is a mistake and we end up like her parents? Or worse… what if we end up like mine?"

Silence descended like a veil, Ward's words rendering Garrett momentarily speechless in a manner that both men were completely unaccustomed to. It wasn't often that John couldn't find some sort of wise ass quip or heartfelt, old Southern platitude to pull them from the depths of their newest despair, and Grant found it as disconcerting as his mentor seemed to.

For once in his life, Garrett appeared to select his words carefully, and he reached out and placed his hand over Ward's arm in a paternal gesture.

"Kid, you listen to me… You are not your parents. You never could be. You're a good man, Grant. And I should know, I practically raised you myself," he smiled pointedly. "That girl loves you, and you love her. That's all there is to it, and if in the future you decide to give me grandkids, you'll do right by them… I know it. It won't be easy. You two are as different as you are alike. You'll fight with each other, sometimes you may want to kill each other, but I've never seen you this happy, and she's the reason. Don't let fear hold you back, Grant."

Ward nodded hesitantly, adding dismissively, "I mean, I haven't even bought a ring yet. I should do that first I guess, right?"

Pursing his lips for a moment, Garrett's thoughts drifted to a cherished family heirloom that had, for the last few decades, been without an owner.

"Yeah, well I might be able to help you out with that one. If you're serious, if you wanna marry that girl, you come by my house one evening. My momma's ring's been sitting in that safe for twenty five years. I figure it's about time it served its purpose again."

Ward's mouth dropped open and his eyes grew saucer wide. He moved as though to shake his head but instead found himself spluttering, words failing to form on his tongue.

Finally, he managed to croak out, "John, I can't… that's an incredibly generous offer but… I couldn't accept your mother's ring."

John only snorted, reaching across the table and clapping Ward hard on the shoulder.

"Of course you could," he replied in his usual easy manner, "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

Ward frowned and the worry lines creasing his forehead deepened as a consequence.

"That ring was meant for your…" Grant began to protest, trailing off when he found John glaring at him and his own cheeks began to tingle with crimson heat.

"Yeah, because I'm fighting them off with a stick, you little punk," Garret shot back, although there was no real malice or anger in either his tone or the set of his mouth. Perhaps just a tinge of sadness instead. John had been married to his job with S.H.I.E.L.D. for so long that by the time he had realised that his life was passing him by, it had been too little, too late for him to settle down and forge for himself the family he had begun to yearn for. He knew what lonely nights felt like, and there was no way he wanted the same for Grant, who deserved so much more than he ever had himself.

"Besides…" Garrett added, his embarrassment dampened down somewhat by Ward's evidently shocked expression, "you're as close to a son as I'm ever gonna get. Let me do this for you."

Ward thought it over for a moment and offered his mentor a brief smile of thanks - not just for this one gesture, but for all the support, and dare he say - love - that the man had bestowed upon an unruly and damaged teenager.

"Thank you, John."

Garrett shrugged, disliking the decidedly sentimental slant the conversation was taking just as much as Ward appeared to be.

"Don't mention it, kid. You might have to get it sized down though. Skye's such a little thing, and my momma, God rest her soul, was uh… kinda heavy set. Damn fine woman, Hell of a good cook, but she wasn't a slip of a girl." Hiding a decidedly evil smirk behind a feigned cough, Garrett said somewhat reverently, "If I could just ask you for one thing, son…"

"Anything…" Ward bobbed his head, looking over searchingly at the man, his brow creased in earnest.

"If you guys ever have a daughter, I'd like you to consider naming her after my momma." Ward's eyebrow arched expectantly, and Garrett landed the final blow with aplomb, "Bertha. It's a good, strong name, you just don't hear it enough these days."

Garrett waited for his words to sink in, and if there were ever a moment he wished he'd gotten caught on camera, it would have been that one; and perhaps the night he had spent with an air stewardess in Reno. But this was certainly ranked right up there in his list of most enjoyable minutes he'd spent on Earth.

Ward's expression drifted quickly through surprise, to horror, with perhaps even a little trepidation mixed in there. He floundered hopelessly as he tried to think on his feet and get himself out of the hideously awkward exchange without upsetting the man he'd come to look upon as a father, or the girl he hoped to one day marry. He was certain 'Bertha' would not sit well with Skye - should they ever decide to start a family - he was admittedly still somewhat torn on the subject. His mind battled endlessly between self-doubts and nightmares from his own childhood, against daydreams of black haired, rosy cheeked babies, and the idea of a family of his own with the woman he adored. He was almost certain Skye would consider 'Bertha' an act of cruelty, though.

"I… I mean…" he began helplessly, a frown creasing his handsome face as John roared with laughter, the mirth radiating from his shaking shoulders.

"Nahhh, I'm just messing with you, kid," he explained, watching as Ward sat up straighter and folded his arms across his chest in indignation.

Garrett sobered up in a second, his smile replaced with a look of sincere earnest as he said, "Her name was Dixie."

Ward pushed his chair back from the table, on his feet in seconds and already walking away from the dining room, leaving Garrett to clear their breakfast dishes.

"This conversation is over," Grant called over his shoulder, shaking his head to himself as he weaved through the tables and benches dotted around the cafeteria.

As he made his escape, the sound of John's hearty laughter echoed after him and Grant couldn't help the amused smile that weaved its way across his lips.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _'_** ** _ _ **If you love me, don't let go…'**__**

 ** **27**** ** **th**** ** **February 2017****

Striding down the hospital hallways, John Garrett pushed past orderlies and side-stepped through doors, the unwelcoming stench of disinfectant causing his stomach to roll in dread.

He spotted Coulson almost immediately. The man paced worriedly around the visitor's lounge, directly in front of FitzSimmons who sat side be side, the latter wringing a tear sodden Kleenex in her hands.

May stood silently against the wall, arms folded across her chest as she avoided the gazes of her team, perhaps beset by guilt at not having been by the younger agent's side.

"Where is he?" Garrett demanded, forgoing all greetings and simply following the direction Coulson's angst ridden gaze directed him towards.

He took off down the hall, stopping to peer inside each room until he found them, and as he finally laid eyes on Grant, he felt as if the air had been knocked out of him.

The young man sat in a crumpled heap at the side of the bed, Skye's hand clutched in his own, his cheek pressed desperately against her skin.

Garrett walked into the room with hesitation, the heavy, oppressive atmosphere immediately hitting him full force.

Laying his hand gently on Ward's shoulder, he squeezed in reassurance as he softly said,"I'm here, son."

Ward noisily sucked in a breath and, before he could so much as blink, John found the younger man flying into his arms. They had never much been ones for physical displays of affection, or really for much affection at all, but Garrett locked his arms around Grant without a word, feeling his body trembling with the effort of simply standing.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Garrett soothed, hoping that his voice wasn't shaking too much, belaying his own concern, "you hear me? We got a wedding in a few months. No way in Hell your girl is gonna miss that."

Grant didn't respond, taking several seconds longer than usual to collect himself before he drew away from John, tears tracking a course down both of his cheeks.

"The next twenty-four hours are critical," he managed to choke out before he collapsed back into the chair he had been occupying before John's sudden appearance. Grant reached out and gathered Skye's hand back up into his own, his eyes returning to rest on her bruised face, which bore such a peaceful expression that she might have only been sleeping.

Glancing around the compact private room, Garrett managed to locate a second chair, which he wasted no time in dragging to the side of the bed so that he could situate himself opposite Ward. He sank into the cushions gratefully then reached out to rest his hand on Skye's arm, unable to capture her other hand due to the cannula poking out of the back of it.

"What happened?" he demanded, wincing at how loud his own voice sounded in the dismal quiet of the room. "Phil didn't say much of anything when he called, except she's… that it could be better."

Ward's teary gaze never left Skye's face as he gently slid his fingers underneath hers and murmured, "You were right. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take the shot and… I couldn't get to her in time, I…"

He wiped his free hand clumsily over his eyes, inhaling deep, although his chest shook with emotion.

Just as John had predicted, Skye had been unable to make the hardest call; that had of course not meant that her adversary had found themselves ruled by a similar sympathy.

"Hey," Garrett's voice somehow managed to be soft and yet commanding, "this isn't your fault, kid. You're not her S.O. any more. You're not the one calling the shots here."

Before Garrett could continue any further, Ward shook his head, stroking his fingertips across the back of Skye's hand as he explained, "She wasn't cleared for combat. Coulson doesn't think she's ready, he… he's had her running communications, hacking mainframes… secure servers… She went in without anybody knowing, she… she came after me. My earpiece failed and they lost contact. This is my fault."

He looked up at Garret as the final words left his lips, and John thought he had never seen anybody look so utterly destroyed.

John remained silent, his eyes drifting between Ward, Skye and the heart monitor that beeped insistently from the corner of the room. He took a moment to observe the number of beats, his long ago field medic training telling him that the rhythm was a little too sluggish. He swallowed hard at the realisation, which set his own hands shaking. He brushed a thumb over the cool skin of her arm before truly registering the lack of heat being radiated from her body and taking a moment to adjust another blanket around her.

Ward watched him work without a word, marvelling not for the first time at how hands that had snuffed out life without a second thought on so many occasions could also comfort, and sometimes heal.

"She took a beating," Ward paused, needing several seconds to suck in another breath in order to steady himself before he continued, "she's got a couple of broken ribs, one of which punctured her right lung, broken collar bone, internal bleeding, and… she hit her head, hard. They think there's some… uh… some swelling…"

Unable to continue, Ward simply trailed off, his gaze dropping back to Skye's face, which was swollen and mottled purple. It had taken too long to get to her. She was still a rookie - an inexperienced one at that - and the highly trained operative that had tackled her hadn't held back. Of course, neither had Ward when he had reached their location.

Seemingly reading Grant's thoughts, John demanded, "What happened to the son of a bitch that did this?"

Ward's jaw set in unadulterated anger as he thought about the man he had dispatched with his bare hands only hours ago. The Hydra operative hadn't known what had hit him when Ward unleashed his particular skill set, fuelled by the very purest rage and despair. He'd left the body on the ground, eyes still open in shock at the moment death had seized him. Then Ward had merely stepped over him, rushing to Skye's side as she lay unconscious on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding her.

"He's dead," Ward said bluntly, no hint of remorse in his voice, and Garrett knew better than to question him about it.

Reaching out tentatively, Ward stroked the hair from Skye's forehead, his eyes taking in the bruises that littered her skin with a heavy, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. His mind drifted back to that morning, torturing him with images of her smile, of how she'd woken him with kisses and the mischievous, wandering caresses of her hand that had roused him from slumber. How she'd enclosed him in her arms and arched beneath him, crying out his name as their bodies had joined together and she'd whispered how much she loved him; how she couldn't wait to be his wife.

"I don't know what I'd do without her," Ward said quietly, a strangely empty tone to his voice as he tried to process even the possibility of life without her. Skye had blown into his world like a hurricane, turning over and destroying every pre-held belief and rigid, structured view that he'd held of the world until he couldn't remember who he was before he loved her.

"Then I guess it's a good job you won't have to find out," Garret said firmly, a kind of confidence he didn't truly feel latching onto his voice, injecting his words with a finality that he hoped Ward couldn't argue with.

"The doctors said…" Grant began, eyes closing as a fresh wave of despair washed over his entire body, bringing with it a numbness that flooded down to his toes.

"I don't give two hairy shits what the doctors say," John insisted, reaching out and brushing a piece of hair behind Skye's ear in a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Ward. If it was anyone else, he would perhaps feel resentful of John bestowing them with such attention or open affection, but it was Skye - their Skye. To know her was to love her, and Grant could only find it within himself to be glad that she now had so many people around her who couldn't imagine their lives in her absence.

"I was right before, Ward, but she was too pigheaded to listen," Garrett stated, not caring when Ward shot him a glare that was downright enraged. "I know who Skye is, and although she might not be a killer, this kid is certainly a fighter. This isn't how it ends, son. I can promise you that."

Garrett had made Ward many promises over the last fifteen years and managed to keep every single one of them; a fresh start, therapy, a home, a safe place, the chance to make something of himself - all of these things John had delivered on. He silently prayed his luck wasn't about to run out on this, the most important promise he'd ever been foolish enough to make.

Ward just nodded silently, lifting up her hand and pressing her palm to his cheek. He kissed her wrist and closed his eyes as he felt her pulse beneath his lips.

"You know, she thinks you don't like her… that you don't approve of her," Ward admitted, keeping her hand in his, and not bothering to look up at Garrett, who he heard guffaw loudly at the suggestion.

"Now why in the world would she think that? You know, she and I are gonna have to have a little chat when she's up and about," Garrett mused, smiling pointedly at Ward, "this girl's the best damn thing to ever happen to you. Even the mutt likes her, and he's pretty choosy about who he drools on."

Gazing down at her for a moment in silence, Ward managed a brief, sentimental smile, recalling their rather turbulent beginnings. She'd grated on every nerve in his entire being to begin with, annoyed and irritated with her boundless energy, total lack of self-control, and propensity for saying exactly what she was thinking no matter the situation. She was everything he'd spent twelve years at S.H.I.E.L.D. trying __not__ to be, but one day he'd looked at her - all glossy curls, sarcastic retorts and eye rolls - and realised he'd been utterly charmed by her honesty and inherent goodness. She was soft and feminine, gentle by nature, witty and charming, and all of the things he wasn't. And somehow, he'd fallen helplessly in love with her. She'd __taught__ him to love.

"Everybody loves Skye," he stated, lips turning up in a faint smile as he thought about the team's initial response to the newcomer, and how now all - even May - loved her dearly, "well… eventually."

Garret smirked, nodding his head as he agreed, "There's a six to eight month initial period where it's touch and go, but she wears you down."

Finally, Ward consented to chuckle, John's humour working its usual magic. Some of the tension melted from Grant's shoulders and he eased himself back in his armchair, still maintaining a firm grip on Skye's hand.

Sobering up slightly, although striving to keep his tone light, Garrett added, "She's not the only one who's loved, you know, son?"

Ward froze, the hairs on the nape of his neck beginning to rise until they stood erect, sensing what was about to come; something that had been experienced for a long time and yet never admitted, with mutual bravado and the need to save face standing in the way.

"Suddenly it occurs to me just how quickly things can change… turn bad," John admitted, frowning as he glanced down at the small hand he clutched in his own - Skye's hand, which seemed just as fragile as the rest of her suddenly did. "And I've never said it before because… well, it's not exactly the kind of thing two red-blooded guys discuss over a beer, but… I wouldn't ever want you to doubt what you mean to me."

"John…" Ward began, shaking his head as he peered across the dimness at his mentor.

"Let me finish," John interjected, the look he shot Ward daring him to argue or protest. "You aren't like the son I never had, Grant… you're the son I always wanted. As long as there's a breath left in me, that won't change and… well, I guess I should say this at least once before I eventually kick the bucket… I love ya, kid."

Ward's lips parted as if to reply, but the words were lost to him, as he tried desperately to recall what it was to tell a parent you loved them. The last time he'd uttered those words he'd been tiny, craving his mother's affection. He'd soon learned that it would never be his, and a wall had been assembled around his heart that had taken over a quarter of a century to crumble.

"Uh…" he began helplessly, brows creased into a frown. Telling Skye he loved her had been easy somehow; well, easier. She'd been lying with him one evening, as the pair had reclined on the couch on the BUS, and as he'd wrapped his arms around her he'd suddenly realised he never wanted to let go. The words had tumbled from his lips as if of their own accord, and she'd responded with the widest smile he'd ever seen, and an echo of his sentiment, that was perhaps the first time in his life he'd heard that somebody loved him. Skye had somehow realised as much, because she'd cupped his face in her hands and just stared up at him until his smile mirrored hers, and she'd kissed him with abject tenderness.

"Oh, Jesus. Don't say it back. That'll just make it weird. I just wanted to put it out there… and now, we can forget I ever said it and never talk about it again, okay?! Good." Garrett wrinkled his nose derisively, but the flicker of understanding and gratitude written across Ward's features let him know that the feeling was mutual. The feelings they would never, even under the most extreme torture, talk about again.

"If you want to get some shut eye, I'll stay," John offered, his eyes on the wall clock, which ticked somewhat incessantly along with the beeping of the machines.

"I'm not leaving, not until she's awake," Grant argued, shaking his head and adopting an expression that indicated he would need to be removed from the room by force.

"Well then, I guess neither one of us is going anywhere for a while," Garrett stated, and he slunk low down his seat, pulling the peak of the baseball cap he wore down over his eyes to block out what little light filled the room.

"Thanks," Ward whispered, and although he was far too tired and worn down to reflect his gratitude in his expression, it was there in his tone tenfold.

Pulling his chair closer, Ward crossed his arms against the bed covers and lay his head onto them so that he was watching Skye's face closely. The rise and fall of her body next to his was mildly comforting, but he knew that could change in an instant; he understood just how serious her injuries had been.

A wave of nausea overcame him for a moment and he closed his eyes until the room had stopped spinning, and he could focus his thoughts on anything other than losing the love of his love. He tried to harness Garrett's certainty, yet he could tell his mentor was hiding behind a façade for his benefit.

A gentle knock caught the two men's attention, and when they glanced towards the door Coulson stood in the hallway, his features drawn immediately into grief the moment he laid eyes on the woman in the bed.

As much as Grant knew Garrett had been a father to him, Coulson was now filling that vacant role for Skye, and he adored her like the daughter he'd never been fortunate enough to have.

"Room for one more?" he asked uncertainly, managing a smile of thanks as Ward nodded and Garrett pushed the chair beside him back so the assistant director could take a seat.

Coulson sighed, watching with a mournful expression as Grant twisted the glittering diamond ring between his fingers, having been charged with the precious item by one of the ER nurses.

A small huff of laughter left his lips as he recalled the moment Skye had chosen to tell him of their impending marriage, bounding up to him with a grin as she waved the back of her hand in his face and threw her arms around his neck. The official aspects of just how it would work with them both in the same unit had struck her with apparent suddenness.

" _ _Wait, this is totally cool, right D.C.?__ "

Of course it wasn't. It broke several S.H.I.E.L.D. rules and regulations. But the Director was in a position to pull a few strings to keep his prized team together; people he considered family. So he'd assured her using her own words that it was indeed ' _ _totally cool__ ', and the smile that illuminated her face was imbued with the kind of happiness he knew she'd never known before.

The three men sat in silence for the remainder of the night, all keeping a careful vigil on the woman in the bed; but perhaps none so heartbroken as Ward.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _'_** ** _ _ **Hold on, hold on to me…'**__**

A sea of black suits greeted Ward as he gazed out across the crowd assembled outside the church, waiting for the enormous double doors to be thrown open so that they could file inside. From the most cursory of glances, he could tell that the few rows of pews would be filled, and he was struck suddenly by the fact that most of the assembled friends and colleagues were there solely for Skye; after all, as he had once remarked, it was difficult not to love her.

He tensed his jaw, fighting back a wave of emotion that seemed to come from nowhere, and finding that his fists had clenched at his sides with the effort. He avoided looking at faces, certain that they would all bleed together anyway, given the way his mind and heart were racing in tandem, preventing either from functioning as they should. He pulled in a breath far too noisily and attempted to assure himself that he could do this; for her.

"You okay, son?" Garrett asked, appearing from nowhere. One large hand landed on Grant's shoulder in a gesture that was by now so familiar that Ward barely even registered it.

"You're looking a little green," John continued quietly, the concern lacing his tone almost palpable. "You're not going to pass out on us, are you?"

There wasn't a hint of teasing clinging to his words, and Ward quickly shook his head, not trusting his own voice enough to offer up an answer. His stomach swirled and lurched, truly threatening to empty out the meagre breakfast he had consumed onto his shoes. He had railed against anything more than black, unsweetened coffee, but John had been insistent on toast and porridge, which Ward had choked down only to appease the older man. He hadn't tasted a single bite.

He looked up as a figure brushed past him, and he found May's eyes suddenly landing on his. She blinked as if the last thing in the world she had wanted was to meet his gaze, and he found himself focusing on her hand, where she tried to conceal a cloth handkerchief in the sleeve of her jacket. She offered him a weak smile before turning on her heel and walking up the few steps into the church, reluctant to allow anyone a hint of her less than controlled persona.

"We should get inside," Coulson stated, jamming his hands in his pockets as he and Garrett nodded sombrely at each other in greeting. "FitzSimmons said they're five minutes out. How are you doing, Ward? Is there anything I can get you?"

Grant shook his head, noting how Coulson and Garrett flanked him on either side, but the strength in his legs seemed to be failing him anyway. With each step closer to the building he felt as if lead was filling his bones. He blew out an unsteady breath, and immediately Coulson and John each placed a hand under an elbow, effectively holding him up. Ward watched, completely disengaged, as three sets of perfectly polished black shoes came into focus as they walked into the church.

The second and final set of double doors leading to the inner sanctum of the church building - and the gathering of people within - almost proved too much for the hardened Specialist, and he placed his palm against the door to try to collect his racing thoughts. He peered through the small windows and swept his gaze over the assembled people, before looking down at his suit, and the stark, black ensembles of the men beside him.

"She deserved better than this," he said quietly, shaking his head to convey that it just wasn't good enough.

"It's what she wanted," Coulson countered, smiling briefly as he curled his hand around Grant's arm and pulled him towards the doors. Quietly, he encouraged, "Come on… they'll be bringing her in soon."

Any residual colour drained from Ward's face in that moment, and Garrett placed his hand on his back as they began to make their way down the aisle.

"Right behind you, son," he assured him, noting how Ward kept his head down, avoiding the curious and impertinent glances of the congregation as they glanced up from flipping through the order or service laying on the pews.

"You ready to do this?" Garrett asked, gripping Grant's elbow still as they sank onto the bench at the front of the church to begin their wait. The soft strains of somewhat melancholy pop music echoed around the building as it leaked from the speakers positioned at each corner. Skye hated organ music, having always claimed it reminded her of the nuns and the orphanage, and so it would have no place in the service. As far as Grant was concerned, everything would be according to Skye's wishes.

Momentarily, the pastor pottering about the front of the church managed to catch Grant's eye, offering him a smile that was intended to be encouraging. Ward felt his own lips move, automatically returning the gesture, but there was no real thought process behind the act.

Finally, the sound of the doors creaking and swinging open grated against Ward's nerves, and he didn't have to look behind him to know what was happening. The pastor seemed to spring into life, hurrying to the front of the church to begin officiating whilst Garrett seized Grant's elbow and thrust him into the aisle. It was almost as though he was manipulating a puppet, the way Ward jerked and stumbled without any of the usual grace of a Specialist.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the pastor began, his soft and gentle voice cutting through the chatter that had been drowning out the music - one of Skye's most recent favourite songs by some sort of Indie band that Grant detested, "will everyone please be upstanding _for the bride_."

Ward felt as if the ground were moving of its own volition, his legs rooted to the spot on what must be marshmallow.

His expression looked pained to say the least, and Garrett nudged him with his elbow, watching the figures of Fitz and Simmons walk arm in arm down the aisle, the latter clad in a midnight blue dress that fell just above her knee with a small bunch of wild flowers clasped in her hand. He knew if Ward would just turn around, his nerves would all but disappear.

From almost the moment Skye had said an overjoyed 'yes' to his proposal, Ward had lived in a state of waiting for the day she would wake up and change her mind. He dreaded the moment she realised, in his words, that he "was a horrible mistake." After Skye's recovery, his guilt at not having been there to protect her had eaten away at him, and he wondered why she didn't blame him like he blamed himself.

That morning, he'd checked his phone repeatedly, sure there would be a message or a missed call from Jemma, telling him that Skye had gone.

 _ _Because she could do so much better than him.__

"Kid, turn around. Turn around… don't miss this moment," Garrett insisted, and as Ward clasped his hands behind his back and finally turned to face the doors, his eyes found Skye's and he released the breath he realised he'd been holding for the last six months.

Skye looked radiant, dressed in a long, cream, floaty dress that could only really be described as 'bohemian'. Wide, billowing sleeves fell just above her elbow, and a single cream flower sat tucked into the side of the loose bun that tendrils of dark hair escaped from.

She clutched Coulson's arm tightly, more out of excitement than uncertainty, and as they began their journey down the aisle, she shot Grant the most animated and overjoyed smile he could have imagined. Lifting the bouquet of flowers up to face height, she waved at him, grinning and goofy, and just like that, Ward felt any last fear or doubt leave him. He laughed at the gesture, shaking his head as she giggled in response and took the last few steps towards him with more haste than Coulson had been expecting. The older man was almost thrown off balance by the move but he managed to right himself at the last second, no doubt a testament to his extensive S.H.I.E.L.D. training.

"You okay, robot?" Skye whispered as Coulson placed her hand in Ward's and then moved to seat himself at John's side. The two men watched with interest and more excitement than either would care to admit to.

"I am now," breathed Ward, leaning down and stealing a kiss, which caused Skye to frown in mock indignation.

"You're supposed to wait until later to kiss the bride," Skye chided him, and her grin grew exponentially as she realised what she had said, and what the coming minutes had in store for them both. For a moment, the couple gazed at each other in complete silence and awe, although nobody would notice as a few tardy guests scrambled to organise themselves into pews.

"I was worried you might get cold feet… change your mind… realise that…" Ward explained, falling quiet again as Skye reached up and pressed her index finger to his lips, shaking her head as though she was scolding a child.

"Never, Grant Ward," she stated, her mouth pressed into a line to punctuate her point. "Nothing could have stopped me getting here today, to you. So, are you gonna marry me or what?!"

Ward smiled widely, waiting for her to pass her bouquet to Jemma before he clasped both of her hands in his and they stood, both somewhat impatient, before the pastor.

The words of the clergyman passed over his head for the most part, but the vows they made to each other were earnest and heartfelt. As Grant slipped a gold band onto her finger, and watched her do the same to his, he thought about just how his life had changed.

He recalled the words of a wise man - the man now watching him, face filled with pride - as he'd stood terrified and uncertain in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy, with nothing but pain and terror marking his past, and very little hope for the future.

" _ _...t__ _ _ake a chance and change the rest of your life__."

Finally, the pastor declared that they were man and wife, and before he'd even managed to utter the immortal line 'you may now kiss the bride', Skye had thrown her arms around Grant's neck and melted into his kiss.

"Hey there, hubby-bubby…" she grinned, noting that even the eye-roll the words instantly elicited didn't dampen the euphoric smile plastered across his face.

"Wife," he said by way of returning the greeting, before he leaned down and once again claimed her lips with his own, his enthusiasm never once waning. When they drew apart once more, it was to rapturous applause filling up the church to the rafters, and Grant thought that he had never truly known happiness until that moment.

Skye had been more nervous about their first dance than Ward had ever seen her about anything. He had the benefit of the Academy dance electives under his belt, whereas Skye had a track record that included being kicked out of ballet class as a mere toddler for turning up in a pair of jeans and sneakers, then proceeding to kick the teacher. It was a cute story, but Skye hadn't appreciated Ward or Coulson laughing at it as she had whined and lamented about how truly awful their very first dance as man and wife would shape up to be. As it turned out, she was wrong, because Ward had her kick off her far too expensive beaded sandals and stand on both of his feet as he whirled her around the floor, all the while laughing ecstatically.

The reception was an intimate gathering of no more than twenty people - neither the bride or groom had led a life that had meant the acquisition of large groups of friends, and their only family were the members of their team.

But it was romantic in its own way, and Skye smiled airily as she swept her gaze over the numerous candles and lanterns that FitzSimmons had spent an eternity lighting. Garrett and Coulson had paid for the wedding, despite Ward's protests, and at the end of the ceremony Garrett had handed them an envelope containing two tickets to Hawaii, plus a hotel itinerary that informed them that the bridal suite was theirs for the duration of their ten day honeymoon.

The function room was tiny, yet large enough to accommodate the people who mattered most to the couple. A makeshift dance floor dominated the centre, and Garrett had enlisted a young S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit with a penchant for music and 'amateur DJ' marked on his resume to provide the music.

Garrett watched the couple barely swaying to the music, as Skye held her shoes in one hand and kept her arms laced around Grant's neck. Oblivious to the song playing, they remained caught up in a series of kisses, whispering quietly to each other between smiles.

Raising an eyebrow as he watched Ward's hands slide past the small of Skye's back and curve around her rear, John cleared his throat.

"Don't forget to leave room for the Holy Ghost, kids," he teased, smirking as they both turned around, somewhat red-faced.

Extending his hand towards Skye, he offered the pair a warm smile, "You mind if I borrow your wife for a second? Skye, you wanna whirl this old guy around the floor?"

Looking up at Ward and then shrugging, Skye nodded, "Uh, sure."

If truth be told, she would have balked at the prospect only a few months previously, when she had suspected and feared that Garrett's feelings for her were less than complimentary. However, after her accident and subsequent stay in the hospital wing at a top class S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, Skye had seen another side to the man; he had supported Ward unfailingly through it all, and then some. Yet what had touched Skye the most had been the way in which Garrett had chosen to also support her - not just the small gestures such as bringing flowers and chocolate to her during visiting hours, but the bigger and more far reaching ones too, such as sitting by the side of her bed through the night so that she didn't have to be alone with her nightmares, and comforting her when she cried behind Ward's back after having grown frustrated at how long her recovery seemed to have taken her.

So Skye flashed John a grin of her own before handing her shoes off to Grant and following the older agent out onto the makeshift dance floor.

"I hope you don't expect the same kind of fancy footwork Grant is capable of," Garrett said, obviously amused as he explained, "I always did have two left feet. No amount of classes at the Academy managed to fix that."

Skye let out a laugh, accepting the hand Garrett extended to her and then placing her other lightly on his shoulder.

"Thank you so much for today," she said, her eyes shining as she took a moment to sweep her gaze around the room, "you don't know how much this means to us."

Garrett nodded, moving her somewhat awkwardly around the floor as he said, "Well now darlin', Grant's as close to a son as I'm ever gonna get, and more than that, he's… well, he's the son I would've wanted. I wasn't lucky like him, I didn't find a woman willing to put up with my BS. So that makes you my daughter in-law… means you're family now, too. I… I never did get to tell you this after the uh… accident, never seemed like the right time…"

Skye glanced over to the other side of the room where Ward was caught up in a seemingly amusing conversation with Coulson, May, and Simmons. She smiled as she watched him laughing freely - his controlled, emotionless, almost robotic persona apparently gone in that moment.

Garrett followed her gaze and smiled, before continuing on, "I like you, kid. I like your spirit, I like your sass… and… I'm glad you could see past his hard-ass routine long enough to love him. He's a good guy, and he loves you somethin' crazy. I know he's a pain in the ass sometimes, but…"

Skye smiled, anticipating the rest of his slightly stilted and clearly uncomfortable speech.

"I'll take care of him, John. I promise. __For always__ …" Her eyes landed on the gleaming new gold band on her finger, which nestled side by side with John's mother's ring, and Skye lifted her hand from his shoulder for a moment.

"I never break my promises. Especially not this one." Trying to lighten the moment, she added playfully, "Pinky swear."

Garrett chuckled, nodding his head in apparent satisfaction. In the next instant, he paused in the middle of the floor, quickly but carefully spinning Skye outwards so that she could twirl underneath his raised arm. She giggled and the hem of her dress billowed up, showing off the intricate and beautiful embroidery that decorated it under the overhead lights.

"Just give it a few years before you make me a grandpa," John said with a cheeky wink as he drew Skye back into his chest and gently gripped her hand, "I'm far too young and far too handsome for that right now."

Arching a brow, Skye fought to prevent a smirk from dominating her lips.

"Of course you are," she agreed, nodding her head with faux vigour, "but you don't have to worry just yet, we've got a little while before we start thinking of anything like that."

"Just you make sure I'm the favourite grandpa," John insisted, this time his expression somewhat perplexed and also completely serious, "I want to be cooler than Phil."

Throwing her head back and laughing, she assured him, "Well you guys have got a good few years to fight it out, pops."

"Okay," Garrett agreed with a soft chuckle, watching over Skye's shoulder as Grant made his way back over to them, his bow tie gone and his shirt collar open as if he'd finally started to relax.

Fitz and Simmons were slow dancing to the ballad drifting across the dance floor, and John smirked as he directed Skye's gaze to where May and Coulson swayed awkwardly together, their arms fraught and tight as they were clearly conscious not to invade each other's personal space.

Catching Skye's eye, Garrett nodded pointedly at Ward's approaching figure, "I think this belongs to you…"

"You bet your ass it does," she giggled, instantly meeting Grant's slightly bemused expression and smiling up at him as he took her hand from where it rested on John's arm.

"Alright, well.. I'll leave you two crazy kids to it." John paused, lowering his voice and looking between them as if conspiring as he added, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Leaving us with quite the plethora of options, John," Ward quipped, grinning as Garrett good naturedly swatted at him, pretending to be affronted by the quip. Within seconds he was gone, repositioned at the bar, where he had begun to flirt with a woman who looked suspiciously like Victoria Hand from the back. Ward grimaced and turned quickly away, not wishing to be scarred for the remainder of his days by watching Garrett attempt to score with a superior agent.

"Been a Hell of a day," Skye said quietly, pressing ever closer to Grant and breathing deep the scent of his aftershave. A tired and thoroughly content sigh passed her lips, and Ward couldn't help the sudden thrill that coursed through his body at the realisation that she was finally his; for better or worse, and undoubtedly even beyond the constraints of this life.

"I hope one day you won't regret refusing the bells and whistles that Coulson and John offered us," Ward said, stroking a finger through Skye's hair, mindful of the flower that adorned the top of her head still.

"We didn't need a circus," Skye said firmly, "I'm not exactly the type of girl that dreamed about her wedding day as a kid."

"No," Ward replied, voice and eyes softening as he added, "you dreamed of a family, just like I did."

"And now that's what I have," she murmured, and the smile that overtook her was brilliant, lighting up her features in a way that Grant had never witnessed before. "Wow… I guess we finally both made it happen. How about that, huh? I know at least five or six nuns that this'd shock the shit out of."

Pressing his cheek to hers, Ward brushed his lips over her temple, dragging kisses down her soft skin.

"I don't know how anyone couldn't have wanted you," he whispered, kissing down her neck and tightening his embrace to tug her closer.

Running her fingers through Grant's hair, Skye closed her eyes and pressed herself flush against him. Every nerve ending in her body hummed in anticipation of his touch.

"It's okay," she replied softly, drawing back to look up at him, and her fingertips fluttered up to caress his jaw, "I know how crappy our lives were, Grant, but if things had been different, we wouldn't be here together now. We may be totally different people. You know, _we might not even have liked each other_."

She giggled and made wide eyes as if shocked at the very idea.

"No," he shook his head definitely, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, "I'd love you no matter what, Skye. In any lifetime. That could never change."

Though she rolled her eyes at his uncharacteristically sappy words, she blinked back the burn of tears she felt threatening to descend her cheeks and ruin her make-up.

"Wow. Public displays of affection __and__ romance? You blown a fuse, robot?"

"Maybe I have…" he admitted, closing his eyes as Skye looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his collarbone. She seemed content to melt into his embrace as they swayed to the music, and she began to whisper 'I love you' repeatedly into his ear, as though it was her mantra or some kind of prayer. Ward's hands swept across her back, coming to rest naturally on her hips and allowing him to hold her tightly. There they stayed, truly not wishing for the moment to end, or for the world to continue turning before they were done basking in their happiness; all of which they owed at least in part to one man.

" _ _I believe that some things… are just meant to be.__ "

* * *

 **Authors' Note \- We've been a little slow to update 'Dark Nights' lately, in part due to busy schedules but also because it's an evil!Garrett centric fic and it seemed wrong to continue with it whilst ignoring the recent passing of Bill Paxton. We just wanted to throw this little tribute out there, and experiment with what life for Ward and Skye could have been like had John Garrett been the kind of man that Grant had always believed him to be. Regardless of his villain status, we loved Garrett, and some of his lines never fail to make us cry with laughter. That's mostly down to the way Bill played him; swagger, Southern charm, intelligence and attitude. What a truly gifted actor and what a loss to his family, friends and the entertainment industry. So we hope you enjoyed our John Garrett/ Bill Paxton tribute; may his memory be for a blessing.**


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